Raven Hill Part 1
by doctorintelo
Summary: The Doctor and Rachel land in Carlisle, England, in the year 1492, only to find a string of mysterious murders have taken place only a few days before Halloween.


**_RAVEN HILL_**

 _A DOCTOR WHO STORY_

 _BY TJ_

 ** _PART I_**

THE TARDIS ENGINES ground to a halt as we landed somewhere in the vast universe. I poked my head out the door. The smell wasn't that bad, so that was a positive. The air had a little chill to it, and there were leaves falling off some scattered trees. I closed the door and went back in the TARDIS. "How is it?" asked Rachel, my companion, "Is it bad?"

"How bad, or what kind of bad it may be, I don't know yet," I answered, throwing on my coat, "but we were brought here, so there's got to be a reason for it." "Well," she answered, "I was just thinking, with it being so close to Halloween and all…"

"Rachel, there's nothing to worry about," I said, putting my hand on her shoulder, "Halloween isn't even a significant event. It's just a jumbled mess of myths and legends and superstitious wives tales and religious cults. There's no sense in being worried. We don't even know what time of year it is out there!"

"Well, if you say so," she said, "But if anything weird happens, I'm blaming it on you." "That's alright," I laughed, "I'm used to it. Shall we go?" I beckoned towards the door. She followed my lead and we stepped out into the crisp air. As we walked, we came towards a man pacing the ground muttering something. As we got closer, I realized it was a prayer.

"O Saint Benedict, grant me from God those favors and graces of which I stand so much in need. Amen." He opened his eyes and saw us staring at him. "Hello," I managed to get of awkwardly, "We are travelers from another place. We seek lodging for the night. Could you give us some?"

"Oh, not me," the old man laughed, "there are plenty of inns around here that would love to take you in. For a price, of course." "Who are you, then?" asked Rachel. "My name is Friar Percy," he said, "and I am here on a special assignment from the Archbishop himself." "What 'assignment' is that?" I asked him. "He asked me to come and check things out here in Carlisle. There has been some unsettling activity recently."

"Like what?" I prodded. "You certainly do like to talk, don't you?" Percy laughed. He motioned for us to walk inside a very large building. "What is this?" Rachel wondered. "This is the cathedral of Carlisle, where, up until 3 nights ago, Bishop Nicholas Close ministered to the faithful parishioners of this city." He shook his head and sighed. "But that's why I'm here. The archbishop asked me to manage things in the period between the next bishop's ordination. In fact, there's our new Bishop now."

We turned around to see a tall, handsome man with dark hair come in the cathedral. He was well dressed and had a short beard that only made his hard-set countenance seem harder. His sword was sheathed at his waist, and he wore gloves on his hands. He ignored us and walked over to the Friar.

"Is it true?" he asked with quivering lips, "Tell me it isn't." The friar shook his head. "It's true, I'm afraid," he said, "and you will be the new Bishop." The man sighed and seemed to be choking back his tears. "Oh Nicholas," he lamented, "You were a good man, and an even better bishop. I will never be as good as you."

"Sorry if I'm intruding," I said to the Friar, "But how exactly did Bishop Close die? You said strange events were happening." At this the Friar's face fell even further. "Come with me," he whispered, and we followed him.

He led us down the narthex of the cathedral, which was a very large and well decorated place. Statues of various saints lined the halls, and the large altar cast an eerie shadow over us as we walked past it. Friar Percy took us to a large wooden door with a metal lock. He opened it, and it revealed a long flight of stairs. "This is where it all happened"- he motioned to the stairs-"well, at the top at least." "Right," I sighed, "Let's get climbing."

"What's your name?" Rachel asked the new Bishop, who had been quiet since we started walking. He smiled. "My name is Melchior Godwin," he answered, "But now I guess I'll be 'His Holiness, Bishop Godwin of Carlisle.'" "What's wrong with that?" she replied, "It can't be the worst thing in the world." "Melchior hasn't lived a clergyman's life for long," the Friar said as we continued to climb. "What did he used to do?" asked Rachel. "He was a war hero," explained the Friar, "Well known for courageous acts on the French and English Battlefield." "Why did you quit?" Rachel asked Melchior. "I didn't quit," he laughed, "I was injured and no longer able to fight. So I took up the profession of a chaplain. I have helped many soldiers in their spiritual battles. Now, I have been called to Carlisle to be the Bishop," he sighed, "But I do miss my troops."

At this point we reached the top of the stairs. The Friar opened another door that led into a small room. It had a window on the left wall that overlooked the city, and a quaint wooden desk filled the far end. On the desk were many papers on various subjects, and a half-burned candle stood holding some down. On the right side, there was a small dressing room, upon which hung the Bishop's many robes.

"This was his study," said the Friar, with a reminiscent air, "Nicholas used to spend hours up here doing nothing but reading. He was a wise a learned man, and he even helped me at times figure out the answers to questions I was struggling with. Everyone loved him." "If everyone loved him," Rachel said, "who killed him?"

"We don't know," said the Friar, "but this is all the evidence we've got." Saying this, he pulled back an intricately woven rug to reveal a dark spot on the floor. The floor was wooden, but it was a tan color in every place but here. I bent down to observe it, and Rachel bent down next to me.

"What does it look like?" she asked, as I pulled out my sonic. "Well," I said, hovering the sonic over the patch for a second, "someone definitely died here. The energy levels are still pretty high for this to be anything else." I turned to the Friar. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Three days ago," he said, "on October the Twenty-Seventh."

"Right, thanks," I said, "What was he doing that night?"

"He was preparing his message for the next Sunday," The Friar answered, "Nicholas always did that so he could visit the poor on Saturday."

"What was the message to be on?"

"Well, I was never quite sure," the Friar said, thinking hard, "but I believe it had something to do with demons."

"Hmm, demons, interesting," I mused. Things were getting strange.

Rachel moved closer to me and whispered, "Tell me you just heard what I heard."

"And what would that be, exactly?"

"Demons! Death! A mysterious case!"- at this she dropped her voice even lower- "and all on the day before Halloween. Tell me that doesn't creep you out."

"Don't make a fuss out of it," I warned her, "or you may be considered to be a witch. People in these ages don't play around with darkness."

I had seen what I needed to see, so I stood up. "Friar Percy," I said, reaching out my hand, "It has been the greatest pleasure to meet you and to see your beautiful cathedral. I will let you know what I find about this case, and hopefully my companion and I will be of a great assistance to you on this matter. Now, I think we shall retire for the night."

"Thank you, sir," he said, "though I never got your name?"

"Just call me the Doctor," I said, shaking his hand. "Very well, Doctor," said the Friar, "have a good night!"

"We'll try!" I said as we walked out the door and down the stairs. "Where are we going now?" Rachel wondered, "Back to the TARDIS?"

"We're going to get dinner at the tavern," I explained, "I saw one not far from here as we came in. It was called the _Crow and Lantern_ I believe." "Sounds Great!" said Rachel.

We approached the _Crow and Lantern_ with some hesitancy. Taverns in these days were known to be places full of bar fights, pickpockets, and shifty characters who loved nothing more than to fool a dumb outsider. "Whatever you do, don't let them know who we really are," I said to Rachel as we walked in. I found us a table (it was a Monday around 7pm, so the tavern wasn't that full [but it wasn't empty either]) and soon a young girl of about 17 walked over to us. "What'll ya have, Sir?" she asked me, "The pork roast is amazing. My personal favorite."

"I think we'll have," I said, scanning my brain for my memories of good tavern food, "I think we'll have… do you have a lake near Carlisle?" "Not a lake," she responded, "But some fishermen from Eastriggs sell us fish from the channel." "Ah, Yes, Right!" I exclaimed, "the channel! Very well then, bring us your finest roasted fish, half a loaf of bread, and we'll each have a glass of spiced wine." "Coming Right up, sir," she said, disappearing behind the counter. As I watched her, I overheard a conversation between a few men at the bar.

"Course," said the first, "That's what 'appens when you go near Raven Hill." "I think he was stupid," said the second, "No one in their right mind would go there in the middle of the night." "But you see," interjected the third, "Raven Hill ain't a place to be messin' with. He must have had a good reason; else he wouldn't 'ave gone." I looked at Rachel, who was writing all of this down in her journal. "I'll be back," I said, standing, "If the girl comes, this should be enough for the bill." I handed her a few coins. "Where are you going?" she said, looking up from her writing. "Over to the bar." I answered. She gave me a quizzical look. "Oh, oh, not to drink," I said quickly (I knew what she was thinking), "Just to… socialize." "Socialize?" she said, "I know you well, Doctor, and you most definitely do not socialize." "Well, that's what I'm going to do," I said, and I walked over to where the men sat.

"So," I said, striking up a new conversation, "what do all of you think about the new Bishop?" "I don't like him," said the second man, "He doesn't impress me much. Of course, no one would after Bishop Close." "I see," I said, "But what's all this fuss about 'Raven Hill'? I'm not from here, so I don't know anything about it." "Best that you didn't," said the Bartender, who happened to be the first man, "It's nothing but a place of death." "Sure it is, Wallace," said the second man, "it's a cemetery!" "A cemetery?" I was confused. "Raven Hill is a cemetery?" "Largest one in town," said the third man, "An' just last night they found another mark." "Mark?" Now I was really confused. "Like the one in the Bishop's room," said the second man, "My name's Murphy. I used to clean it, and I was the first one to see the mark. Last night, they found one belonging to Richard King, the blacksmith's son. If you ask me, it sounds like witchcraft."

As I listened to what the men said, I got a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew there was something else going on here. It couldn't just be a murderer who owned a bunch of ink. It had to be more than that. There was only one way to find out.

I thanked the men for their information and walked back to our table, where Rachel had already began to help herself to the fish. "Eat quickly," I said to her, sitting back down and spooning some on my plate, "we've got to go." "Where are we going?" said Rachel, with her mouth half full. "Raven Hill," I answered, "we're going to Raven Hill."

The creature sat high in the tree, watching us through beady red eyes. It saw us open the gate, and walk in. The light from the sonic had startled it out of its sleep. _Not again_ , it thought, _Do I really get no rest?_ It watched us as we closed the gate and moved closer into the Cemetery. With a sigh and a deep breath, it followed.


End file.
